


Not A Girl Anymore

by GintokisGirl95



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 13:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6958261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GintokisGirl95/pseuds/GintokisGirl95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew that the moment she laid eyes on him that she couldn't bring herself to kill him. </p>
<p>It only took him a while before he realised that she was not a girl anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Girl Anymore

_“You are Arya Stark,” the pale girl with dark eyes spoke, a smug but disgusted look on her face as she approached her calmly, slowly._

_“I am not Arya Stark,” she said firmly. Hearing her past life’s name hurt her, even though it shouldn’t have._

_“Then who are you?” The Waif asked with vitriol._

_“A girl has no name.” The girl murmured._

_“Leave us.” She turned around and saw the familiar red hair with interspersed white streaks. His cold blue eyes were focused on her, and her eyes followed the taller man. The Waif gazed at Jaqen, then back to ‘Arya,’ and quickly exited the room. “Who are you?” He finally asked._

_“A girl has no name,” she repeated, surer of herself than last time. He narrowed his eyes, then he gave a simple nod._

_“A girl is to kill a man. A Lannister commands it.” He sat on the edge of her bed, eyeing her curiously._

_She knew that she didn’t want to do a Lannister’s dirty work, especially not after what they have done to her family._

They are not your family, _she corrected herself._ You have no family.

_She nodded. “What will a man have a girl do?”_

_“A girl is to travel back to Westeros, and head to Castle Black, near the Wall.” He handed her a vial filled with a clear liquid. “A girl is to kill a man named Jon Snow.”_

_At the sound of his name, cold washed over her body; she felt her heart breaking. But, she knew…she wasn’t in a position to disagree, so she nodded again._

_“When is a girl to leave?”_

_“As soon as a girl packs.”_

“Open the gates!” She heard a man call, then the large brown doors were pushed open. The loud sound of the wood scraping against the ground as they slowly came to a halt irritated her, but she decided not to pay too much attention to it. She leapt off her horse as she passed the opened gates, looking around until she saw his familiar face. 

Every last thought that ran through her mind dissipated when she saw _him._

_Jon._

Her breath hitched when she realised he was real, alive, and right in front of her. His mouth was slightly ajar, without a doubt, believing that she died after she and Sansa were taken to King’s Landing. He must have thought the people who killed their father found her and killed her, too. 

Jon, her older brother, her happiness, her outsider companion. The one who gifted her Needle, who always let her fight with him, the one whom she “protected” from Theon when he was being an asshole to him. She vaguely remembered throwing handfuls and handfuls of mud and jagged rocks in Theon’s boots as a way to “help” back then. 

Those memories hurt.

_Those memories weren’t supposed to come back…_

_But they did,_ her thoughts whispered. _You can’t let go._

She felt like crying when he quickened his pace to meet her sooner and embraced her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. She held him tight as he picked her up and swung her around, ruffled her hair, and called her his little wolf, just like he used to. She tucked the small phial with the clear liquid further into her sleeve. 

_I can’t kill him, I just can’t…_

He led her to his room after she finished bathing, sitting her in front of his small fire. He left and came back, just to put a small blanket over her shoulders. 

“Would you like something to eat? I have venison stew, if you’d like... I made it before you got here, and it’s still warm.”

Arya nodded, and he gave passed her a bowl, watching as she gently placed it to her mouth and slurped it. She smiled, turning to him. 

“It’s good stew,” she responded. “Thanks, Jon.”

“It was no problem,” he said. “I know travelling up here must have taken a lot out of you.”

“How are things up here anyway? What have you done?” With her free hand, she held one of his, her eyes full of curiosity. “We weren’t able to write to each other, sadly. But I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too, little one.” He said softly. He then explained all that happened to him, from the detailed letter he received from Howland Reed, telling him of his true parentage, to saving thousands of the Free Folk at Hardhome, which led to his death by his own brothers of the Night’s Watch and being revived by the Red Woman, Melisandre. She noted that he sounded so sad, so melancholy, yet so incredibly different, and in response, she squeezed his hand. He stared into the fire, his eyes dark. 

“My own brothers…killed me…”

“That is a betrayal of the worst kind.” Arya shook her head in disappointment. 

“I can’t stay here.”

“Of course not, Jon. But…where will you go?”

“Where will _we_ go, you mean.” Arya looked up at him, eyes wide and full of shock. “If I don’t protect you, Father’s ghost is going to come back and haunt me forever.” He smiled slightly.

She suddenly felt warm. _I don’t want to go back to the House of Black and White. I want to stay with Jon. He is my home._

“…right. Where will _we_ go, then?”

“I don’t know just yet. But, anywhere but here sounds ideal.”

A silence fell over the two. 

“It is your turn. Where have you been, little sister? I have sent ravens all over Westeros to try and find you. With the way things looked, I only could have guessed you were dead…but I still had high hopes.”

Arya drew a shaky breath. She stared at him and saw the trusting nature of his deep grey eyes and knew that she couldn’t hold on to her past and not tell him. With a deep inhale, she revealed everything. She told him about her first kill, about how she saw Grey Wind's head on Robb's body when The Hound was escaping the Twins, when and how she met Jaqen H’ghar, then how she met The Hound, who protected her for days when she made her way to Braavos and decided to join The House of Black and White, training to become a Faceless Man, to become No One. After she finished telling her experiences, Jon sat in silence for a few minutes. 

_Say something, please, Jon…_

“Did you really want to become one?” He asked softly. 

“Become what? A Faceless Man?” Arya questioned. Jon nodded. “I don’t know. I wanted to forget all of the pain, Arya’s pain, the horror of watching Father’s beheading, of seeing Sansa being held back in front of the man who decreed the order, of Cersei doing nothing to try to save him, just standing there and watching on, no look on her face. Seeing all of those things and everything else that followed hurt. I wanted to kill everyone. I wanted--”

“Revenge,” Jon finished for her. “But sometimes…sometimes revenge isn’t worth it.”

“They caused a lot of suffering to our family, Jon. They deserve to have the same suffering inflicted on them.”

“Did you want to forget all of the good things that happened to you, though? Of you being at Winterfell, did you want to forget Needle, of the times where I let you fight with me, when I tousled your hair or when I picked every leaf, piece of dirt, and stick from your hair?”

Arya inhaled again. Her eyes went back up to his face, and he looked so kind but so worried. “No…”

“Then you couldn’t have become No One. You didn’t want to become a Faceless Man. You just wanted to forget certain things…but not _every_ thing.” His eyes still focused on her, he scooted closer, holding her hand and threading his fingers through the spaces. They were together, Jon resting his forehead against hers, the puffs of their breaths merging into one. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Your past is your past, and I understand, Arya. War is unkind, as it has been and will always be. War happened to all of us, and we all came out of it as killers, hard, and worse for wear.”

“I knew you’d understand, Jon. I missed you so much so I took the quickest chance I could to try to find you,” Arya muttered after she smiled at him. He helped her with his understanding. He got it, even after all of the bad she’s done in a short amount of time. Looking back now, she was wondering what happened to the little girl she knew, who played with Jon and throwing food on Sansa when she got mad at her, when the Sun beamed on her pale skin; she wondered where everything went wrong, where the exact point was that changed her into a bloodthirsty killer. The hardened girl’s image shattered in just a short amount of time when she was simply understood by her older brother, when he was holding her like this, hand-in-hand, forehead still on her own. She gave him a tight hug and told him, “I hid Needle. I hid her and came back to the spot where she was so that I could remember the last conversation we had before you left. The many nights I was there, I dreamt of you. I tossed and turned thinking of you. I…I would become a Faceless Man if I could have. You…you made that impossible for me.”

He took her hand and held it again. “I’m glad you didn’t, Arya. Nothing hurts worse than having someone you love forget you.”

Arya gently kissed his cheek and pulled away. “You smell like a winter where the air is dry and smells like freshly fallen snow in the still, godsless night,” she told him.

Jon chortled. “Is…is that a good thing?”

Arya nodded, replying, “it reminds me of home. Always of home.”

“I want to be your home,” he murmured. 

“You always were,” Arya replied. “I’ve always loved you.”

He smiled at her, then thought of what was their home.“Winterfell…I’ve been gone for so long that I’ve almost forgotten what the castle looked like,” Jon sighs. “There will always be memories, though. There were many good and bad ones there.”

“Mother…” Arya muttered wearily.

Jon sighed again, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t blame her for treating me the way she did. I would be upset too if I were her.”

“She didn’t know. Father never told her. He would…he'd do anything to protect you, even if it meant driving a wedge between them.”

“He doesn’t go back on his promises. That’s how noble he was.”

“How do you feel about it, anyway?” She asked, pulling away from him. “About knowing your true parentage.”

“To be honest, it’s a shock. Apparently Fath--Lord Stark wanted Lord Reed to tell me if the time ever came where he died and Lord Reed was still living." Jon ruffled her hair, then ran the pads of his fingertips against her cheek. "But...I do hope it doesn’t change anything between us, though. I still love you with all of my heart, little wolf.”

Hearing the old nickname made Arya smile, but she felt as if there was more to his endearing words, and her eyes dropped down to his full lips. He noticed, too, and they paused for a moment before Jon leant in, his lips grazing hers, his breath warming her cracked lips. Slowly, he extended his free hand and cupped her face, feeling the softness of her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

“Is this what you want, Arya?” He asked, and she nodded, whispering “please.”

He leant in to kiss her, slowly, thoroughly, his tongue snaking in and exploring her mouth. Arya circled his tongue with her own, a moan bubbling from her throat.

“Shh,” Jon told her, his voice low but laced with his barely concealed arousal. His hands slid up her clothing, pulling at her breasts, kneading and massaging them, rolling each newly erect nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. 

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them down against the furs that covered his bed and continued kissing her, later placing soft kisses on her neck and then raking his teeth against her vulnerable, sensitive skin, sucking, biting, leaving red marks that’ll surely bruise tomorrow. As a response, she sucked in air, her body jerking so slightly at his touch. Quickly, he removed his cloak and untied the lace of his leathers. He watched as she rose, slipping off her clothes until they were a melted puddle around her feet. She began to blush as he eyed her, his gaze searing her skin. 

_She’s not a little girl anymore,_ Jon thought.

He pulled off his clothing and allowed his breeches to fall to the floor, removing his smallclothes in the process. He watched as her eyes focused on his wounds, but before she could say anything, he grabbed her arms and pushed her onto his bed, pinning her arms down and kissing her again, with more force than the first time. He travelled lower, lips on her neck and then laid butterfly kisses along her collarbone. He whispered filth into her ear, telling her how badly he wants to fuck her, how hard he was making her, how he wanted to do this for a long time, making her squirm.

His hand dipped lower, parting her legs, and he shifted his body to accommodate the newfound position. He travelled down further until his lips met with her small mound.  
He loved the taste of her; she was tangy, yet was also so sweet. _She’s better than Ygritte. So, so much better,_ he thought, though he felt a little embarrassed to have the thought come to his mind. 

His grey eyes, darkened in the low candlelight, studied her expressions while he tongued her, seeing the shock that spilled across her face to the slow smile, then to her struggling to breathe as she continued a steady moan in her throat. What he loved the most were her shudders at his every touch, and how flushed her face had become; she gasped and palmed her breasts, rolling her nipples between her thumbs and pointer fingers, mimicking the pace of his movements and what he had done to her before. Jon grunted as he continued licking her heated flesh, feeling her cunt becoming sopping wet, almost dripping, his tongue revelling at the taste. She rocked against his tongue, keeping the rhythm of his steady pace, her grey eyes closed.

He pulled her legs up to an angle, for easier access. He started to enter her with one finger, then two, noticing how tight she was, bending and twisting his appendages as he thrusted, eliciting louder moans from her. As he drew back, he noted on her arousal coating his fingers, the clear liquid reaching his knuckles. He licked the pads of his fingers, bringing them up to Arya’s mouth. 

“Taste yourself, little wolf,” he strained to say, and she dutifully sucked, licking his hand clean of her juices. 

“So good,” she breathed. He groaned, his breath hitching, struggling to hold on to his sanity. 

_I can’t stop, I just can’t stop…_

“By all the gods,” she whispered, gasping. “Inside me, Jon… _now_.”

He loved the way she spoke. He loved how she growled at him, how she mewled, and he heard the possessiveness in her voice. He was hard, almost to the point where it was unbearable. He gladly agreed to her plea, and placed one hand on her hip, using the other to brush the head of his cock against her clit. She whimpered in response, raising her hips slightly; with a quick thrust, his entire length was in her, and she cried, arching her body, allowing him to wrap his arms around her back.

He felt as if he were being consumed by flames. He never felt this before, not even with the wild Ygritte. He couldn’t get enough, and it took everything within him to not claim her body and fuck her like they were animals. 

“Gods, you’re so…so _tight…_ so _good_ ,” Jon rasped as he began to move, thrusting slowly. She dug her nails into his scalp, causing him to cry out, eventually releasing her hold to grab fistfuls of his locks. She kissed him passionately, the fire in his body exploding, becoming wildfire; his strokes quickening, pounding into her, loving how perfectly they fit, like pieces of a puzzle. 

He kissed her quickly, the feeling unrestrained, demanding, harsh, ravenous. As he pulled away, watching her swollen lips, she called his name every time he plunged into her. He slid out of her slowly, then pushed back in more forcefully, loving the anguished cries from his lover. 

Drops of sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto her chest as his body bowed, his head lolled so he could watch himself fuck her hastily, with reckless abandon, feeling guilty though he knew that it was what she wanted. 

“Choke me,” she begged. He pulled one of his arms from under her body, his hand travelling to her neck and he tightens his grip, basking in her broken moans. It was then that she came apart, her lungs burning from the intensity, wave after wave of pleasure racking her body, her walls quivering around his cock. Jon slowed his pace, his heart beating wildly, immediately pulling himself out, pressing his cock against Arya’s belly. 

“Fuck,” Jon cursed, spilling his hot liquid on his sister’s stomach. He pulled away from her, grabbing a cloth to wipe his seed from her heated skin.  
Exhausted, he collapsed beside her, not knowing what to say. “Arya…”

Arya turned his way, nuzzling her head underneath his chin. She threaded her fingers with his, allowing her touch to respond. He pulled her closer, welcoming the cold that washed over his body. 

“Gods, Arya…I missed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not good at writing smut, but I tried anyway. Hope it was to your liking, and thank you for reading.


End file.
